all is calm. all is bright.
and because it rarely is for any of us, we embrace the moment when it feels almost so.
it’s why we love christmas.
it’s why we love sitting in front of a crackling fire and gazing into the twinkling lights of our tree.
we all have something deep inside which longs for a silent night. a holy night. just one tiny minute of a midnight clear.
and the weary world rejoices. it’s what we want. what we wish for—that thrill of hope!
it’s why we love christmas.
but if we’re being honest with ourselves, we know that longing is not just for a mere night or a short season, but for a much needed savior.
the babe born holy in bethlehem who came for this whole worn out, weary world.
he, alone, is our calm and bright. our silent night. our joy to the world.
oh, yes! our thrill of hope.
even when--especially when--all is not calm and all is not bright.
and because it rarely is for any of us, we embrace the moment when it feels almost so.
it’s why we love christmas.
it’s why we love sitting in front of a crackling fire and gazing into the twinkling lights of our tree.
we all have something deep inside which longs for a silent night. a holy night. just one tiny minute of a midnight clear.
and the weary world rejoices. it’s what we want. what we wish for—that thrill of hope!
it’s why we love christmas.
but if we’re being honest with ourselves, we know that longing is not just for a mere night or a short season, but for a much needed savior.
the babe born holy in bethlehem who came for this whole worn out, weary world.
he, alone, is our calm and bright. our silent night. our joy to the world.
oh, yes! our thrill of hope.
even when--especially when--all is not calm and all is not bright.
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